Rose Coffin

by M. P. Kozlowsky

  The spiking hiss of the bus rounded the corner, puncturing her thoughts. Peering down the block, she saw the bus’s nose emerge like a yellow scourge. She imagined SallyAnn sitting in the back, waiting, plotting, her ghouls all around her cackling. Rose picked up her backpack as if it were armor and clutched it to her chest, her heart beating against her books.

  As the bus made its sluggish crawl down the long street, Rose stood facing the woods. But maybe there’s something else, she thought. There was fear in either choice, but she knew she had to act, and if she had done it once, she could do it again. Swinging the backpack over her shoulders, and with the bus bearing down, she raced across the street and darted into the woods.

  When she was far enough in, she ducked down and closed her eyes tight, waiting for the bus to pass. Only it never did. At least she didn’t hear it. Opening one eye, then the other, she looked out, but she couldn’t even see the street anymore. Weird, she thought. These woods must be thicker than they look. Slowly, she made her way back toward the street, but she never emerged. Did you get yourself turned around, Rose? Were you not paying attention again? she wondered. How far in are you?

  Okay, she thought, trying to remain calm. There are trails. Trails eventually lead out. Follow the trails, just like yesterday. Which she did, keeping to the well-worn paths until they eventually didn’t lead anywhere. They just stopped. With panic quickly rising up, she backtracked and took an alternate, lesser-traveled route, and nearly a mile later, these did exactly the same.

  “Don’t get scared. Still better here than in school, right? Right. No SallyAnns here.” Using this last sentence as a kind of mantra to keep the fear at bay, she walked for what felt like hours until, finally, she needed a rest. She could feel her body yearning for the magical realm of sleep. Dropping her backpack to the ground, she took a seat on a dry, withered stump, her eyes heavy. No SallyAnns here. Suddenly, she found herself singing “Winter” again, continuing right where she left off. It came easily this time, powerfully. She was louder than she had ever been, her voice crystalizing in the air.

  Something dashed past and Rose jumped to her feet, her head caught in a daze. “Who’s that?” Nothing moved. There was no sound.

  A moment later, something else came dashing by. A deer? Then came another. And another. A dozen of them. They were running so fast, she could barely make them out. But something told her these weren’t like any deer she had ever seen. They were … different. Bigger. Were their heads red? And the sounds they made … no deer cried out like that. But what were they running from?

  She turned around, and one of the animals came charging right by her. It flew like a missile and was just as loud, spinning her to the ground. Did … did that one have wings? She felt the earth rumble beneath her body. Whatever the threat was, it was close. Glancing up, she spotted a huge wall of flames heading her way. Every tree was engulfed, from roots to the highest branches. It stretched as far as she could see, and it moved furiously. Without wasting another second, Rose was off and running with the animals. But as fast as she ran, the fire seemed to be gaining. She felt its heat, the singeing whip of its flames. What if she never found her way out? What if she died in here? Push, Rose. Move! Digging deep, she ran harder than she ever had before. Sprinting through the woods, hurtling logs and shrubs, she couldn’t believe how fast she was. She was like the deer. You’re going to make it, she thought. You’re going to survive this thing. You’re going to— And just like that she ran smack into a tree.

  Lying on her back, her head felt like it was split open. In fact, she thought she must have knocked herself completely senseless because the tree was moving. It was inching toward her as if on legs, slowly but steadily, until it bent right over her face. “What’s happening?” she cried as she tried to scramble away, only to have her escape blocked by yet another moving tree behind her. “What’s happening? Somebody help me!” She crawled in a different direction, then another, then another, only to be blocked each time. Her trembling hands dug into the earth and her vision continued to fade in and out as she sobbed, fearing for her life. The world was lit with flames, and the woods had come alive; they were cursed all along, and they had come for her as she always knew they would. The deer continued to stream by as, all around her, more and more trees closed in. And in the middle of them, like a ray of light, was a boy with skin of gold. “This is her,” he said. “The one we came for. Take her.”

  Her vision continued to play games. It had to be, because what she was witnessing couldn’t possibly be real.

  Apparently she was still too dazed to walk. She thought she remembered attempting a few steps, but her legs kept buckling beneath her, and now she was being carried. As her vision returned to her like a slow fade-in, she glanced down at who was keeping her so high aloft. She seemed to be resting atop a tree, in a large tangle of branches with odd birds with purple feathers all around her. But as she peered farther down, trying to understand how this tree wasn’t connected to the ground, she noticed its trunk was in the shape of a human body, complete with arms and legs. That can’t be right, she thought groggily. It must have finally happened, Rose. You lost your mind. Looking ahead, she saw the golden boy leading the way, and the mere sight of him sent a jolt of pain straight through her eyes and into her head as if she had stared at the sun. She quickly realized the only way to safely look at him was out of the corners of her eyes, just like she did with most of the boys at school. He must have been around her age, she figured, and although his skin was gold, he had long dark hair, thick and lustrous, that fell straight down both sides of his face. He walked with great confidence, leading a group of about eight or nine wandering trees through the woods, a sword in a scabbard across his back. He ignored her like every other boy she had ever known, though she clearly never knew one quite like this.

  The longer they walked, the more Rose’s head cleared; though, like a scar, the confusion and fear remained. Bits and pieces of conversation found her ears, and she nearly screamed when she realized it was the trees talking.

  “We found her, that’s all that matters!”

  “And just in time too! The devastation, I’ve never seen anything like it! Decades of rebuilding!”

  They spoke in loud, gnarled words, the sounds grinding their way deep into her ears.

  “Yes, but we’ll live!”

  “Thanks to her!”

  “Thanks to her!” they all echoed.

  She had no idea who they were talking about, and she didn’t care. Right now she just wanted to get down, and she let them know it. Gripping a branch with both hands, she began to shake it violently, screaming, “Hey! Put me down! Put me down, right now!”

  Nobody responded but the birds on the branches, and so she shook the tree some more. “Did you hear me … mister?” “Mister,” Rose? Really? “I want off this thing! I want off this instant!”

  Still nothing. Incredulous, she began slamming her foot down on the nearest branch. “Where are you taking me? Help! Somebody, help me! I’ve been abducted by … by an oak! Help me, please!”

  She was in such terror, her body overloaded with so much adrenaline, that she snapped the branch clear off the tree. This seemed to get the tree’s attention, bringing it to an abrupt halt. In fact, the entire walking forest had gone completely still, as if the crack were a gunshot. Rose, fearing what was to come, began to sink down among the branches. “Umm …”

  All at once, the limbs around her began to move. Two curled themselves right around her body and lifted her into the air. Soon, she was hovering high off the ground, face-to-face with the tree.

  “Why, you could have just asked nicely!” the tree shouted jovially, and he placed her down before him as gently as possible. “I thought you were still passed out!”

  Rose had to stretch her neck far to find his face again, he was so tall—his eyes sat nearly eight feet off the ground, but the branches that grew out of his body extended a dozen more feet in all directions. His skin was thick and rough
like bark, with the largest branch jutting out of his neck, though there were others coming from his back and stomach, his arms and legs. The strange birdlike creatures that had taken flight at Rose’s violence quickly returned to their nests. Although they had red eyes and jagged teeth that hung out of their beaks and wings similar to that of a bat’s, they seemed harmless enough. The tree man’s beard was moss, his teeth wood. Rose imagined he had been human once and swallowed a seed, the tree taking root within his belly. There were others just like him, though he was the biggest. One of them had a thick branch coming straight out of his mouth, another through an eye, one more through an ear. Some were more like bushes; some were old and withered. It all looked incredibly painful to Rose, enough for her own bones to tighten and ache, but none of them seemed to mind. In fact, the tree wasn’t mad; he was downright jolly.

  He picked her up in his arms—the humanlike ones, not the branches—hugging her and swinging her from side to side. “We’ve been waiting for this day, little girl!” He threw her up, and she nearly pierced herself on one of his branches. She was trembling badly in his arms now, like one of his leaves about to fall. It was one of the only times since her brother’s accident that she could remember wishing she were home.

  The golden boy hurried forward and demanded Rose be placed back down immediately, while also admonishing the giant tree for his carelessness. “Gentle, Ridge. Where has your head gone? We can’t let any harm come to her. She is special. A gift.”

  For a moment, Rose assumed there must be another girl with them. No one had ever said anything within the same universe of such a compliment to her. Turning to the boy, she couldn’t help but beam. Nope. No SallyAnns here. No pink houses. No Coffins. It was like even she had become someone else.

  “Of course! Of course!” Ridge shouted, placing her down. “I got ahead of myself! Today is a great day!”

  Scrunching her face, Rose wasn’t sure he was able to speak quietly. Not that that was her concern right now. Her knees continued to buckle beneath her, she was so nervous, but she had to put that aside. Free from the tree, seeing her chance—perhaps the only one she’d get—she began to run. She made it all of three steps before she collapsed like a house of straw.

  The golden boy walked over and helped her to her feet, his hands warm on her arms. “I’m afraid we can’t let you go,” he said, his tongue as quick as silver. “So you can either walk with me, or go back atop Ridge. The choice is yours.”

  It was easier to look at him now, as if her eyes only needed time to adjust. He continuously let out deep breaths, this boy, as if his lungs were damaged. There were scars all over his body, she noticed, thick white marks as if the gold were scratched away. He wore heavy brown boots, as well as brown pants and a loose tunic. His eyes were as black as his hair, no iris to be seen. This should have scared her, but she found comfort inside them instead. Looking deep into their centers, she asked, “Where am I?”

  With a grin on his face, he walked her a few more steps until they were clear of the woods. The golden boy waved his arm before him and said, “This is Eppersett.”

  At the end of the woods was a huge cliff, and from there she could see everything.

  A great river split the land in two. It was impossibly wide and filled with islands, each one its own city with ships sailing from port to port. Mountains sat in the distance, as far as the eye could see, each one an Everest. They hugged the horizon, extending endlessly in each direction like a natural border. She noticed several castles and forests littered throughout the land, creatures flying through the skies. There were waterfalls and statues, animals larger than any that had ever walked the earth. And everything was so bright, so colorful, it pained her eyes. Only when she turned her head to gaze behind her did she begin to see something horrific on the horizon. A creeping death. A black wasteland of a sky. Don’t want to be caught in that storm, she thought, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  “Eppersett,” she said to herself, wondering where on earth this place actually was.

  The view was so overwhelming, her body could hardly take it. After another few seconds she dropped. Right on her backside. She had to sit down, she had to breathe, to think. Her hands held her head. It was all too much. “I … I think there’s something wrong. I think I hurt myself really bad.” Her hand traced the contours of her skull.

  “Don’t worry,” the golden boy said. “It will all be over soon.”

  She looked up at him. The words he had used, there was something in the way he said them, something unsettling. Just as she was about to inquire, a hand slapped her back.

  “Thanks to you, it will!” Ridge said.

  Rose winced at his show of appreciation, but the pain went away quickly as the golden boy placed his hand on her back, a pleasant warmth spreading like blood through veins.

  “Don’t mind him,” he said. “He’s quite excitable. All the Willapps are.”

  “Willapps?”

  “These treelike people are called Willapps. There used to be hundreds of thousands of them. But … no longer.”

  “What happened?”

  He seemed hesitant and more than a little troubled. His eyes wandered toward the desolation beyond the woods. When they returned, he said, “You don’t need to worry about that. You just enjoy these moments.”

  Rose warmed. It had been so long since she’d had a normal conversation with someone her age. Well, “normal” being relative, she thought. In a small voice, she managed to ask his name.

  “Coram,” he answered. “And I will be at your service these next few days. It is a pleasure to be in your company. Truly.” And he smiled at her, a smile that broke her open, her heart bleeding out.

  Rose knew she should have been asking him what he meant by “days,” what the desolation was—a million important questions—but she suddenly felt light as air, and that included her thoughts too. Maybe it all didn’t matter. Maybe Eppersett was where she was meant to be.

  The group descended down the giant cliff, along an ancient stone staircase built into the rock. As Rose looked down, she was slammed by a wave of vertigo, her head and stomach reeling. Desperately, she grabbed one of the sculptures lining the stairs for balance. There were hundreds of them, each one more confounding than the next. There were scenes and people she could hardly imagine being real, what looked like ogres and sorcerers and dragons. She stumbled down a step or two until she finally sat down and closed her eyes, attempting to settle herself and, more importantly, her stomach. When she felt somewhat calmer, she opened her eyes again and was looking at a statue of what appeared to be a farm girl from decades past. The girl looked valiant and strong, but there was something vulnerable about her too. Almost like she were two people struggling to be one. At the base was inscribed the words: She who defeated the thousand-headed beast. Rose meant to reach out and touch it, but for some reason, she found herself touching her own face instead. As she did so, there was a subtle grating sound, and she watched in disbelief as the statue mimicked her pose.

  Rose did a double take and stammered, “Wh-what the … ?” She looked for Coram to confirm what she just witnessed, but he was already two dozen steps ahead. Stymied, Rose moved again, though this time the statue remained still. Was it always standing like that? she wondered.

  “Move along now, girly!” Ridge shouted, bumping her forward.

  “Did … did you see that?” she asked as she was shoved along.

  “See what?”

  “That statue … it moved.”

  “Naturally!” he said. “Now, come on! Let’s keep moving! You act like statues aren’t supposed to move or something!”

  Begrudgingly, Rose descended the stairs, glaring over her shoulder at the sculpture.

  From her high vantage point, she had a good view of much of Eppersett, though very little of it made sense to her. Out in the middle of a large body of water to the west was a series of three towers that, at the top, twisted into one. They were green as if covered in moss and looke
d to be in ruins. Every now and then, something large, with a very long tail like a crocodile, came shooting out of the water, taking another chunk out of the structures. The towers wobbled, pieces crumbling and splashing into the water. For a second, Rose thought she saw a glowing figure in one of the high windows, and wondered if the monstrous fish was trying to reach it.

  Nearly an hour later, the group finally reached the bottom of the cliff. “Not much farther now,” Coram said. “Just over that hill.” He stopped and looked at Rose, his face contorting. “Do you need a rest? When we arrive, nobody is going to leave you alone. They’re all waiting for you as we speak.”

  To Rose, this sounded like a nightmare, her stomach sinking. “Who is?” she asked.

  “Everyone. All of Lamarka.”

  Rose stopped walking, her legs suddenly dead. Her arms dropped to her sides and she stared ahead, a puzzled look on her face. “What, exactly, is Lamarka?” she asked, her voice very slow, her eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word.

  “A city,” Coram said. “My home. Come.”

  Hesitantly, she followed him to the top of the hill, a gentle breeze blowing against her skin, the grass soft, as if each blade were feathers. Pointing ahead, Coram said, “There.”

  Stretched out before them, hidden in the shadow of the Cliff of Cries, was a small city the likes of which Rose had never seen. Beside the large body of water with the three towers, it sprung from the ground in peculiar shapes, twisting up at unorthodox angles. It wasn’t concrete or steel like back home. It was as if the earth itself had manufactured the city. Over what must have been thousands of years, it had grown like a forest, like something living, each and every building unique.

  Some were high-rises connected by bridges, and some grew out of the hillside. Some took the shape of massive trees, and some could have been carved out of boulders. Vines and moss ran up the sides and across the roofs of each home and building. The windows and doors were shaped by arched branches. There were animal nests and hanging gardens, stone pathways and balconies. Bright flowers dotted the landscape and miles of ivy slithered like armies of snakes. And above it all, the sky was a magnificent purple, like a beautiful bruise refusing to fade.